


Ready to Start

by fandomfrolics



Series: (When I Grow Up) I'll Be Stable [1]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Friendship, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 01:28:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1050921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfrolics/pseuds/fandomfrolics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At age fourteen, Steve’s just starting out in high school and is as excited about it as a kid on his way to the dentist. At age fourteen, Tony’s almost done and he's more than ready to get the hell out of there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ready to Start

Steve was on his way out when he heard voices drifting down the hall.

“Why don’t you just shut the fuck up,  _nerd_.”

“Nerd? Really? That’s the best you can come with? God this is embarrassing. I’m embarrassed  _for_ you. If I’m gonna get punched into a locker, couldn’t it at least be my a more intelligent species than jock? Like, I dunno, monkeys?”

 _THWACK!_  “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? Fucking rich bitch thinking he owns the world. Well, where’s your daddy now, huh?”  _WHOOMP!_

The dull sounds of flesh colliding spurred Steve to sprint around the corner. He was greeted by the back of two  _gigantic_ guys, one of them holding a smaller one up against the lockers while the other pounded into him. “Hey!” he yelled. The thugs turned, dropping the smaller boy so he fell to the floor in a heap.

“Leave him alone,” Steve said, trying his best to look intimidating against guys twice his size.

They sniggered, stepping towards him. “Yeah? Or else what?” the bigger, blonder dude taunted.

Steve nervously raised his fists, face determined. “Oh, look at this guy!” the other one said, stepping right up to him. Steve tilted his head up, jaw clenched. “Isn’t that adorable?” He reached out a hand and mussed Steve’s neatly parted hair. “Why don’t you run along back to your mummy before you get hurt?” He turned back to the lockers. “Fucking faggot.”

“Aaaahhhh!” Steve leaped onto the bully’s back, clasping one hand around his neck and hitting him with the other.

“What the fuck!”

The bigger guy simply grabbed onto Steve and pulled, easily separating him from his friend. Idiot #2 turned around, taunting expression suddenly turned to wrath. He glared down at Steve for a second, now released by the bigger guy, before he pulled back his fist and socked him straight across the face.

Steve collapsed onto the floor while the two idiots chortled. He immediately pushed back up, though, and raised his fists again.

The ass who hit him shook his head. “Man, you really should have stayed down.” He pulled back his fist again and Steve prepared to duck, only to find the guy’s arm held in place by someone behind him.

“Get away from him,” a deep voice threatened.

“Barnes, what the hell?”

“I said…” he yanked on the arm he was holding, pulling the idiot around and swiftly hit him in the stomach, “…get  _away_ from him.” Idiot #2 collapsed to his knees, gasping, while the bigger guy held his hands up defensively, taking a step back.

“Yo Barnes, we were just having some fun.”

“Yeah well, fun’s over. Get the hell out of here.”

The bigger guy nodded, tugging his friend up and taking off.

Bucky watched them go for a second before turning to face his small friend. “Steve, what the hell, less than a month in high school and you’re already picking fights with football players? What did I tell you?”

Steve brushed dirt off his sleeves, glaring resentfully at his older friend. “Well I wasn’t going to just sit back and watch while they beat the crap out of…” Bucky turned to see what Steve was gesturing at only to find nothing but a notebook lying on the floor. “Hey where’d he go?”

Steve spun around, searching, and caught sight of the boy walking off down the hallway, tugging his backpack over his shoulder. He picked up the notebook and jogged off in the same direction.

“Steve, where are you going?” Bucky cried after him.

“Hey, guy!” Steve called.

The boy abruptly spun around as Steve caught up to him. There was blood dripping out of his nose and a bruise already starting to blossom over his right eye. “What? What the fuck do you want?”

“Jesus,  _sorry_ , I was just trying to help!”

“Well nobody asked for your  _help,”_  he sneered, swiping impatiently at the blood inching down towards his lips. “I’m not some damsel in distress and I definitely don’t need stupid freshmen trying to fight my fights.”

“Oh get off your high horse. What are you, a sophomore?”

“I’m a senior,” the guy snapped.

“You…wait…you’re Tony Stark!”

“I wasn’t aware of that, thanks for informing me. Now that you’ve done your civic duty for the day, I’ll just be on my way.”

The guy, Tony, turned, pulling some earphones out of his pocket and pushing them into his ears as he walked away.

Steve stared after him for a second, then remembered the notebook still clutched in his hand.

“Wait! Your notebook!”

Tony didn’t appear to hear and no wonder. Steve could hear the faint screams of rock drifting over even as the gap between them grew.

Steve shook his head, looking down at the notebook. “Nice to meet you too, Tony Stark.”

***

Tony closed the door and leaned up against it with a sigh, his head meeting the dark wood with a dull thunk.

“Welcome home, Master Anthony.”

Tony started. One hand quickly shot up to make sure his sunglasses were still on his face. They wouldn’t fool Jarvis forever but should work long enough for him to grab a snack before retreating to his room. He straightened up and pushed off the door with one foot, making his way towards Jarvis. The butler was watching Tony closely, framed in the doorway to the dining room that in turn led to the kitchen. Ignoring his scrutinizing gaze, Tony hitched his backpack further up his shoulder and brushed past the elderly man, keeping his head ducked.

He’d made it as far as the fridge before Jarvis’s clipped British tones rang out from behind him.

“Ice is generally found in the freezer, sir.”

Tony’s hand tightened briefly around the fridge handle before he dropped it. Without turning around, he yanked his sunglasses off and tossed them on the counter. His backpack dropped to the ground with a thump. Shaking his head, he crouched down to pull open the freezer instead, heeding the request unsaid. Only once he’d snagged the ice pack Jarvis had acquired some during the first week of Tony’s freshman year and slapped it to his face did he turn around. Jarvis was at the storage cupboard, busily pulling down boxes to prepare a snack.

“How do you always know?” Tony asked exasperatedly.

“Ah, it’s a gift all butlers are imbued with,” Jarvis replied, setting a box of cookies on the counter (white chocolate macadamia, Tony’s favorite), “to know when their charges are getting into trouble.” He stepped towards Tony then, darting a quick glance at said charge before reaching over him to grab a plate from the shelf. “Also, there remains a spot of blood on your shirt.” He punctuated this with a careless wave at the collar of Tony’s t-shirt.

Tony tugged at his neckline, features distorting as he pulled his neck back to take a look. Sure enough, there was a little red spot right under his chin, something only someone looking for it, someone accustomed to searching out stains or probably more so in this case, telltale signs, would have seen.

Jarvis clicked his tongue at him and Tony released his shirt, smoothing it back down. It wasn’t even one of his fancy ones, just a plain old Black Sabbath t-shirt but Jarvis didn’t really stand for sloppiness when it came to appearance. He acquiesced on Tony’s artfully mussed teenage hair and graphic band shirts but put his foot down at stretched or torn clothing.

Since he’d been found out anyway, Tony flopped heavily onto the kitchen stool and grabbed a cookie from the plate Jarvis had set out, setting the ice pack on the countertop. Jarvis glared at him and Tony sighed. He hated holding that stupid ice pack.

It was Jarvis’s turn to shake his head then and he did so with more grace and at the same time, more sass, than Tony could ever hope for. He picked up the ice pack and moved around the counter to Tony’s side. “What was it this time?” he asked, pressing the pack to his face with far more care than Tony had.

Tony shrugged. “Same old, same old,” he replied through the cookie in his mouth. He could feel Jarvis’s frown of disapproval but fortunately the angle at which the butler stood protected Tony from the full force of it. “Dumb jocks feeling inferior because it takes them an hour each morning just to remember how to spell their own name.”

Jarvis pulled the ice pack from Tony’s face, leaving his damp skin tingling. Tony glanced up, swallowing down the rest of his cookie, only to find Jarvis staring at him with that intensity again. 

“And was this something you reminded them of?”

“No…” Jarvis continued to look at him disbelievingly. “Well, I may have said they were dumber than monkeys…but that’s not so bad!” Tony cried defensively as Jarvis’s features rearranged themselves into a frown. “Monkeys are pretty smart! I could have them compared to, I dunno, earthworms or something.”

 “Perhaps, sir, it would serve you better to not antagonize them at all.”

“Yeah but where’s the fun in that? If they’re going to jump me anyway, I might as well get  _some_ enjoyment out of it.”

Jarvis sighed and pressed the ice pack gently back against Tony’s skin. “Should I be checking for cracked ribs, then?”

“Not this time, ol’ boy,” Tony threw back, picking up another cookie. “Got away too quick for that.”

“Indeed?” Jarvis raised an eyebrow at him. “And how did you manage that?”

Tony shrugged again, biting into the cookie. “What can I say? I’m slippery, like a snake.” He emphasized his words with a little wriggle and Jarvis pursed his lips, clamping Tony’s face in place with a hand on his jaw. Tony’s brow creased. This made it hard for him to eat his cookie. And he really wanted to eat his cookie, if only because the wonderful melding of sweet white chocolate and salty macadamia on his tongue served as a brilliant distraction from thinking about that crazy freshman. Seriously, what was he doing, taking on two seniors who looked like they ate an entire cow for breakfast each morning? 

Perhaps it was the knowledge that he had the football captain looking out for him that fueled him, filling his tiny blonde head with some kind of mistaken bravado. Tony had stuck around long enough to catch his breath and find the strength to stand up, which had been embarrassingly long enough for Barnes to appear out of nowhere and do what the freshman had been trying to do for Tony.

Whatever. Either way, it was dumb. Tony didn’t need their help. He’d survived at this stupid school just fine so far and he wasn’t about to have other people interfering now that he was in the homestretch. Just a few more months and he would never have to see any of those assholes again; at least, not until he was giving them a handful of change to wash his car.

The hand at his jaw disappeared and Tony flicked his eyes up, swiping at the beads of water sliding down his face as Jarvis pulled the melting pack from his skin. Jarvis watched him a moment longer, eyes knowing, until Tony turned his head away and broke the silence with a large crunch of his cookie. He pushed up off the stool and snagged a couple more with his free hand.

“I’m gonna go finish my homework,” Tony said, rescuing his backpack from the floor by the fridge. He quickly left the kitchen, resolutely ignoring the part of him that felt like he was fleeing.

***

Steve ran his fingers slowly over the page, eyes wide as he took in the sheer amount of information scribbled over every inch. 

He hadn’t meant to look through Tony’s notebook, despite how hard it was glaring at him. But then he’d accidentally knocked it off his desk and once he’d caught a glimpse, he hadn’t been able to stop. It was completely fascinating. It was  _art_. Not the kind of art Steve usually admired but no less incredible for it. A burst of inadequacy rocked through him as he remembered the boy who did this was around his own age. He could barely understand algebra.

“What are you doing?”

“Ahhh!” Bucky’s voice startled Steve into flinging the notebook high into the air. It bounced off his lap on its way down, jabbing him with its sharp corner before sliding messily onto the floor.

“What is that?” Bucky asked from the doorway, tilting his head curiously.

“Nothing,” Steve replied quickly, scooping the notebook up and attempting to hide it behind his back.

“Is that Stark’s notebook?” Bucky stepped forward, glee dripping from his every word. “It is! Let’s see it! I bet there’s all sorts of crazy stuff in there, the kid’s nuts.”

“He’s not nuts! He’s brilliant! You should see some of the stuff in here.”

“Aha, so it is his notebook,” Bucky crowed. Steve scrunched up his face, annoyed at his slip-up. “Well, let’s see it.” Bucky made grabby hands, trying to reach around Steve to get to the notebook. Steve twisted away, desperately trying to dodge Bucky’s long arms. “Come on, Stevie, just a little peek,” Bucky wheedled. The bedsprings creaked as his weight fell onto the mattress, his body pressed nearly on top of Steve in his attempt to reach over Steve’s torso. Steve leaned back and raised his arm, holding the notebook as far out behind him as he could reach.

“No!” Steve pushed his free hand forward, fruitlessly trying to shove his brute of a friend off him. “It’s not mine to share.” 

Bucky scoffed. “That didn’t seem to matter when  _you_ were looking at it.” Bucky narrowed his eyes, a sly look taking over his features. He poked at Steve’s ribs and Steve abruptly let out an involuntary giggle. 

“Stop that!” Bucky grinned and poked again, causing Steve to curl up helplessly and the arm clutching the notebook to bend within reach. Bucky quickly snatched the treasure out of Steve’s fingers and wriggled away from Steve, scrambling up towards the pillows.

“Aha!” he cried triumphantly. He managed about two seconds of gloating before Steve leapt forward, knocking the wind out of him. “Argh, stop! Get off!”

“Give it back!”

“No, I wanna see!”

“It’s not yours!”

“Hey, no hair-pulling!”

“Well, stop pinching then!”

“Boys! What is going  _on_  in here?”

They froze, Bucky with Steve pinned underneath his forearm and Steve with Bucky’s other arm between his teeth. The notebook lay forgotten on the floor.

Bucky quickly scrambled off Steve and Steve struggled to sit up, one hand swiping at his mouth and the other nervously patting down his thoroughly mussed hair. A middle-aged woman stood in the open doorway with her hands on her hips. She wore a nun’s habit and at that moment, an exceedingly stern expression. “The last time I checked, this was a home for young boys, not a public zoo.”

Steve dropped his gaze to the floor, blushing. He missed his old bed; his new spot right by the door wasn’t working out for him at all.

The woman tutted and took a step forward into the long dorm room. She brushed a hand over Steve’s hair, finishing what he’d unsuccessfully attempted seconds ago. He looked up at her, sheepish.

“Sorry, Sister Helen.”

Her expression softened momentarily but snapped back to its harsh glare as she turned to Bucky. “Mr. Barnes, please remember that though you are only half as mature, you are twice Mr. Rogers’ size. Do try not to squash him before he reaches his 15th birthday.”

Bucky saluted her smartly, smirking at Steve’s spluttering protests. “I’ll do my best, ma’am.”

“I appreciate that,” she said, lips quirking ever so slightly. “Also, you received a letter today. I was just on my way to deliver it to you.” She produced a small white envelope from deep within her black folds and handed it to Bucky. “Now, I don’t want to see anymore fighting, do you hear me?”

“Yes, Sister Helen,” the boys chorused dutifully. She nodded in satisfaction and turned on her heel. As she walked briskly towards the door, Bucky stuck his tongue out at her back.

“I saw that, Mr. Barnes,” she called, just before she stepped out of the room. Bucky’s eyes widened, sending Steve cackling.

Shaking his head, Bucky dropped his focus to the envelope in his hand. He blinked as he processed the name on the return address. “It’s from Ohio State,” he said blankly.

Steve abruptly sobered. He scooted sideways over the mattress, sticking his head between Bucky’s shoulder and hand to peer at the letter. “What does it say?”

When there was no response, Steve lifted his head and found Bucky looking at him, a single eyebrow raised. “Oh, right,” Steve said, blushing. “Well, what are you waiting for? Open it!”

Bucky rolled his eyes and, with a deep breath, tore the envelope open. A single sheet of paper fell out and he unfolded with shaking hands. Steve leaned back, giving Bucky the space to have the moment to himself but keeping careful watch on his best friend’s expression.

“I don’t believe it,” Bucky whispered.

“What?” Steve demanded, fighting down the urge to just snatch the stupid letter and read it himself. “What does it say?!”

Bucky drew his head up, dazed. “They want me,” he said slowly, as if saying the words aloud would change the truth of them. “Full scholarship.”

“YESSSSSSSSSSSS!” Steve jumped up, punching the air. “I knew it!”

Bucky, still looking thoroughly shell-shocked, didn’t move from the edge of the bed. “I can’t…” He dropped his gaze back to the letter in his lap, the paper clenched tight between his fingers. “I did  _not_ expect this.”

Steve, meanwhile, was doing his best victory dance, clomping around the room and waving his hands about in a strange mash-up of the Macarena and the chicken dance. He paused at Bucky’s words and frowned at his friend. “Why the heck not? You’re amazing!”

Bucky swallowed hard. “They still want to see how the rest of the season plays out…”

“Whatever! They want you! Celebrate!” Steve jumped forward and yanked Bucky’s arm, pulling him up. Bucky stood, a grin finally creeping over his face.

“They want me,” he said quietly. “They want me!” He grabbed Steve by the shoulders and started jumping up and down too, laughter bubbling out of his mouth. “They _want_  me!”

Steve clasped Bucky’s arms and the two of them hopped around in a circle, shouting gleefully.

“BOYS!” Sister Helen appeared in the doorway again, glaring furiously at them. “ _What did I just say_?”

Steve released Bucky and bounced over to Sister Helen, grabbing her arms by the wrist and shaking them up in the air. “He got it! He’s going to Ohio State!”

Sister Helen’s eyes lit up, her irate expression falling away. She looked past Steve to Bucky, who was holding the letter up, beaming.

“Congratulations, Mr. Barnes.” She shook her hands free of Steve’s grip and brushed past him, stopping in front of Bucky. “I’m very proud of you.”

Bucky ducked his head in embarrassment. “Thanks,” he mumbled into the ground.

“You know,” she said thoughtfully, peering up at him with a finger to her chin, “come October, we’re going to be a bit shorthanded. A strong, young athlete could be just what we need. Of course, he’d have to be willing to live here full-time…”

Bucky’s head shot up. “But I thought once you turned 18—“

Sister Helen shrugged. “You’ll have to do a couple of chores now and then, but I’m sure we can figure something out. Besides, it’s only for a few months.” She gestured at the letter. “Then you’ve got your real life to begin.”

To everyone’s, but perhaps most of all Bucky’s, utter surprise, his arms shot out and wrapped around the small nun, almost completely eclipsing her as he enveloped her in a tight hug. Steve tried to stifle his laughter at the sight and failed, letting out a snort that had Bucky quickly dropping the embrace.

“So, um…” Bucky cleared his throat and took a step back, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Sister Helen nodded briskly and with a quick tug at her tunic, strode out of the room. Steve swore he saw her fighting down a giggle as she swept past him.

Steve turned back to his friend, feeling mildly regretful for ruining what was a rather sweet moment between the austere woman and the boy who loved to bait her. He didn’t seem to have caused any harm though, as Bucky still appeared full to bursting with excitement. Steve found himself grinning hard at the sight.

“I’m going to go call Jim,” Bucky said. Steve nodded and stepped sideways so Bucky wouldn’t bulldoze him as he practically skipped from the room, both envelope and letter clutched tight against his chest.

Steve stuck his hands in his pocket and ambled back over to his bed. He paused as he caught sight of the notebook, still lying on the floor where it had fallen in their scuffle. It had been completely forgotten in all the excitement. Steve bent over and swiped it up. Staring at the battered blue cover, he spun lazily on his heel and let himself fall sitting onto the bed.

Somebody had attempted to neatly label the book with a sticker displaying, from what Steve could make out through the inky scratches, a first, middle and last name in precise, rounded handwriting but the tag was long lost beneath black scribble. A new identifier sat underneath, scrawled messily in the same thick black marker. Steve traced his fingers over the letters, the nine little shapes instantly recalling to his mind’s eye the fiery young man, the complete enigma that was Tony Stark.

Steve sighed, flopping onto his back. As Sister Helen noted, Bucky would only be here a few more months, just under a year really, before he was on to bigger and better things. Just like all the other seniors. 

Just like Tony Stark.

Steve lifted the notebook back into his line of sight and looked at it thoughtfully. His brief exchange with Tony had been by far the most interesting thing to happen in his first week at the high school. Of course, it had also been the most painful but that was his own fault. He should have ducked faster, he had better reflexes than that.

He caught his thumb between his teeth and nibbled at the skin as he contemplated the notebook. Really, he should just give the stupid thing back to its rightful owner and get on with his life. Should probably have Bucky return it to him, actually. Tony had made it abundantly clear he had no interest in interacting with a lowly freshman.

Steve sat up, wiping his thumb on his shirt. Okay, he’d go find Bucky and pass the notebook to him, then get on with his life. That was the smart decision.

He managed one step towards the door before he spun around and rerouted to his desk. He tugged his backpack out from under his chair and slid the notebook inside. Screw smart decisions. Maybe he could make something of his freshman year after all.

***

_BRIIINNNNGGGGGGG_

The clang of lockers slamming shut and shouts of laughter washed over Steve as he ducked and weaved, keeping Tony on the fringe of his eye-line. The hallway was packed with students of all sizes and shapes rushing to their next class. He’d lost the other boy in the crowds three times today already, just as he’d worked up the courage to approach him. This time Steve didn’t even have the chance to gather the breath to call out to Tony before he slipped out of his view.

“Why are you following me?”

And slipped back in again. Steve stuttered. How had Tony popped up right in front of him? He was staring icily at Steve with arms folded across his chest, his foot tapping out an incessant rhythm.

“I…I’m not—“

“Oh, so you’re in AP Calculus too?” Tony asked brightly, mockingly. He flapped his hand at the classroom door a couple of feet behind where they’d stopped in the hall.

“No, I just…” Steve exhaled roughly through his nose. “Hang on.” He swung his backpack out in front of him and rummaged through it, papers crunching as he tugged Tony’s notebook out of the mess. “Here.” Tony’s eyes widened briefly but they settled back to normal so quickly Steve wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it. “You left it behind when you—“

Tony snatched the notebook out of Steve’s outstretched hand and stared down at the cover, now ignoring Steve’s presence entirely. Steve narrowed his eyes. “ _What_  is your problem?” 

Tony’s head snapped up. “What is  _my_ problem? You’re the one who’s been stalking me! And don’t even get me started on—“

Steve didn’t normally believe in interrupting others but this was just too much. “I can’t believe you still think—“

“—I mean this is beyond weird, you realize that and—“

“—I don’t understand why you have such an issue with—“

They were so busy talking over one another, each trying to make their own points, they failed to notice the hallway emptying around them. That is, until:

“Well, well, well. Anthony Stark.”

Steve turned slightly, trailing off in the middle of his argument as he spotted a tall, weedy man approaching them. His hairline was receding and he had a self-satisfied smirk plastered across his weathered face.

“Oh great,” Steve heard Tony mumble.

“The second bell rang a full two minutes ago and yet here you are, distinctly not where you’re supposed to be. Too good for this class now, are you?”

“No,” Tony replied, scowling. The man’s smirk broadened. “I was  _always_  too good for this class.”

The smirk abruptly fell off his face, his expression hardening while Steve fought down a snigger. “Detention.” He shot a glance at Steve. “Both of you.”

Tony glared up at the teacher, who seemed to be waiting for a challenge. He flapped his notebook open and flipped through the pages, pausing near the middle to rip two pages out. When he looked up again, there was a polite smile on his face.

“Well if I’ve already got detention, might as well enjoy this fine afternoon. Here’s my homework.” He pushed the pages at the teacher, whose hands closed around them reflexively. “Have a nice day.” And with that, Tony hooked an arm around Steve’s shoulders and led him away.

Steve kept his head down as they walked off, fighting down the urge to look back at the teacher, who he was sure was wearing the most hilarious expression of shock.

Tony dropped his arm as soon as they rounded the corner, the comfortable weight lifting suddenly. He kept walking as Steve stuttered to a stop, unsure as to what to do now. He’d never had a detention before, let alone skipped class.

“You coming or what?” Tony had paused by the entrance, one hand on the door, and was looking back at Steve.

Steve hitched his backpack up and followed.

It was indeed a fine afternoon, a beautiful breezy warmth in the air that only seemed to come around September. Steve hurried after Tony, pulling even with him just in time to see him ripping some gum from a foil packet and tossing it back into his mouth.

“I’d offer you some but I doubt you’d like it.” He held the packet up just long enough for Steve to make out the large  _‘_ Nicorette _’_  written across the top before it disappeared again.

The guy was a whirlwind of motion. Steve had no idea what to make of the last five minutes. Instead of trying, he just asked, “Where are we going?”

“Milkshakes,” was all Tony threw out between snaps of gum.

A couple of silent blocks later and they arrived at a small diner, the kind with old vinyl booths and a bell that dinged when you pushed the door open. At this hour, it was mostly empty, the only patrons besides themselves an elder man reading at the counter and a woman attempting to feed a small child bits of pancake between bites of her own meal.

“Marla!”

Steve tore his attention from the syrup-strewn toddler to see Tony grinning widely at the woman approaching them. She wore an old white apron around her waist and her dark hair was coiled tight, the curly strands here and there looking like they were plotting an escape. There was a slight sheen to the dark skin of her forehead; Steve guessed she’d probably just ducked out of the hot kitchen.

The woman stopped in front of them and just looked at Tony for a moment. He could feel Tony shifting uncomfortably beside him.

“What, no hello?” Tony finally asked, his tone forcefully light.

“I thought you were going to stop taunting them,” Marla replied instead.

“I can’t help it, they’re just so tauntable! Besides, I hear a little color in the face really brings out the rest of your features.”

Marla just sighed and shook her head. “Follow me.”

Steve once again found himself trailing after Tony as the other boy walked beside the woman, Marla, towards a booth in the back. 

“Did you at least ice it?” she asked as they slid into their seats.

Tony huffed. “You know, I should really introduce you to Jarvis. You guys would get along great.” Marla just raised an eyebrow, waiting. Tony flapped his hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, I iced it. Now what’s a guy got to do to get a burger and a milkshake around here?”

Marla rolled her eyes. “You want the usual?”

“Yes please. And he’ll have the same,” Tony added as she looked to Steve. Marla nodded and disappeared.

As Steve watched Tony neatly spread his napkin out over his lap, the motions strangely meticulous, it occurred to him that this might be Tony’s strange way of apologizing.

“So what’s your deal?”

Steve tore his gaze away from Tony’s hands, now precisely folding up his straw wrapper, and up to his face to find Tony looking at him questioningly.

“I don’t have a deal,” Steve replied with a shrug.

“Oooookay…you have a name?”

“It’s Steve. Steve Rogers.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve Rogers.” Tony shot Marla a smile as she set their milkshakes down before retreating again. “So what class’re you skipping right now?” He pulled his drink towards him and stuck a straw in, watching Steve over the glass as he took a long gulp.

“Algebra,” Steve answered, an expression of disgust creasing his face. Tony snorted. “I used to be good at math, I’m good with logic-y stuff. But algebra is not…logical. It’s all letters and question marks where there should just be numbers.”

Tony leaned back, letting the straw fall out of his mouth. He’d already put away half his drink, his tiny frame clearly not an indicator of his appetite. Steve tugged his own towards him and took a small sip.

“I can help you some time if you’d like.”

Steve glanced up. Tony wasn’t looking at him; he was too busy watching his own fingers fiddle with the straw wrapper. “Yeah?” Steve asked, surprise ringing out in his voice.

“Yeah.” Tony shrugged. “It’s not that bad once you accept that the letters aren’t thrown in there just so the teachers can laugh at your expression as you try to figure it out.”

Steve smiled into his drink. “Well…thanks. I…I’d like that.”

Tony hummed in response, the corners of his lips pulling up just enough to turn Steve’s smile into a grin.

 


End file.
